


Narcissistic

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, IronStrange, IronStrange Week May 2018, Light Angst, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Past!Superfamily, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Some Fluff, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs Sleep, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, mostly angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 01:47:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14706794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A collection of IronStrange oneshots.





	Narcissistic

> "i want you."

 

"i need you."

 

—————

 

stephen strange, was, by most people's standards, a narcissistic asshole.

 

and, they'd probably be right.

 

but, if you pulled back the layers, you get-

 

okay, still a narcissistic asshole.

 

just keep pulling, and you'll find a broken man, one who's heart has been yanked from his chest, stomped on, and shoved back in, oh so harshly, unlike the surgeries he so carefully and precisely did.

 

 

tony stark, would be, by the same regards, also a narcissistic, arrogant asshole.

 

but, the difference between him and stephen?

 

there were no layers to pull back besides one. the thin mask he wore to hide his true inner demons and self-hate from the world's watching eyes.

 

it was torturous for both, yet one could cope. one could deal with the pain and continue to go on with it, nestled deep inside their soul.

 

but tony stark couldn't.

 

 

 

 

some days were better. some days he could smile. he could laugh. he could be himself.

 

then there were days when he couldn't live his bed. when all he could manage to do was cry and stare at the ceiling. there were days when alcohol was his best friend, nursing and driving away the bitter demons that plagued his mind. then there were days he was sour. when walls were busted and knuckles were bruised. when bottles were smashed and mirrors were shattered. those days were the worst.

 

day after day, the bags got heavier. the skin got paler. the hands got shakier. the eyes got redder. sleep seemed like a distance dream to the man of iron.

 

 

 

he had an outlet, once. twice. thrice. but, one decided he wasn't enough, the other had used him to get to his mind, and the third? he tried to kill him.

 

oh so sweetly, though. with tender kisses and soft caresses.

 

with harsh breaths and swift punches.

 

with whispered promises and ghostly touches.

 

with angry scowls and crude glances.

 

then he left him there, broken and beaten, frozen and defeated. left to die.

 

left for a long lost love he was no better than.

 

though, it was selfish to think he was more important than his first love.

 

his first friend.

 

he was an idiot if he thought he would stick around and love him, when he was back.

 

 

 

 

he searched and searched for someone permanent. not the temporaries that flooded his bedroom, each night a new temporary, only there for the same reason he invited them.

 

to heal a broken soul.

 

 

 

and when he met stephen? it felt like something has bloomed in his chest. it felt like a piece of his soul mended back together, the wholeness unnatural but certainly not unwanted.

 

stephen completed him. the witty jokes, the knowing, arrogant "i-know-more-than-you' smirks, everything was good. everything was perfect.

 

and though he hadn't know the man long, the attachment was real. and it felt amazing.

 

he knew it was wrong, they way he would look at the doctor. the way his heart fluttered at the shoulder brushes or in the moment of accidental eye contact. it was pathetic. he was pathetic.

 

and stephen probably knew, he was a wizard for god's sake. and he was so grateful stephen didn't bring it up. didn't bring up the glances, the blushes, the stutters, the winks. didn't bring up the nights they sat together, side by side, quiet. simply soaking in each other's presence.

 

they never spoke about those nights.

 

and those times when stephen knew? when stephen was there in an instant, his shaky heads wrapping the white gauze around a bleeding body part? when stephen was there, rubbing his back tenderly as tony's body shook, eyes blurred by the salty tears escaping his bloodshot eyes? when stephen stepped in and took the bottle by the neck and made it disappear, a tut and a smirk coming from him as if tony was some disappointing drunken fool, only to envelop the man into a sweet, knowing hug, the smaller man's head against his beating heart?

 

those nights where cherished, but unspoken of.

 

was there a name to whatever they had? he wasn't sure.

 

but, he didn't really care.

 

their thing didn't need a name.

 

he only needed stephen.

 

and stephen only needed him. 


End file.
